


It Happens In April

by Astroash94



Category: five seconds of summer
Genre: Ashton - Freeform, Ashton Irwin - Freeform, Baseball, Blood, Boy Love, Calum - Freeform, Calum Hood - Freeform, Crossdresser, Death, Gay, Godfather - Freeform, Gore, High School, High school senior, Irwin - Freeform, Luke - Freeform, Luke Hemmings - Freeform, Luke likes to dress pretty, M/M, Michael - Freeform, Michael Clifford - Freeform, Multi, Murder, Other, Petunia - Freeform, Pride, Track and Field, Underage Sex, Violence, but not really, calm, car crash, clifford, cross dressing, hemmings, hood, house fire, illegal acts, senior, track
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23557954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astroash94/pseuds/Astroash94
Summary: In August summer ends. In September autumn starts. In February, winter ends. And in March spring begins.But what happens in April?••••"... and beyond Michael was Luke. I'd always compared Luke's eyes to an ocean, beautiful blue and shining, but far deeper than any human could hope to reach. The pressure of discovering the secrets within the depths of Luke's eyes was enough to kill a man. In that moment, I was sure to be that man, compressed, drowned.Luke wanted things I knew then I couldn't give. Shouldn't give, but I wanted to.I knew then that the devil was not a demon. He was not Lucifer, not Ashton. The devil was not in the eyes of the police, or in my fathers harsh words. The devil didn't whisper into the ears of the pure.He didn't force me to sell my soul. He muttered a feeble plea for me, a soft beckoning, begging for my attention.And like Lucifer, I fell."
Relationships: Calum Hood/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood, calm - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for choosing my story, before you move on I’d like to warn you of a few things 
> 
> 1.) this book contains very graphic very violent acts against the human body, if you cannot handle gore this book is not for you 
> 
> 2.) chapters 7-End are primarily gore, it is unlikely you will be able to skip over those parts
> 
> 3.) chapter six has a sexual scene which starts at the beginning of the chapter, the ending of the sexual content is indicated by ‘****’ 
> 
> Having said that, should you choose to continue, happy reading and remember 
> 
> Everything is not what it seems

It was four years ago and Ashton was absolutely at the end of his road, literally and metaphorically. Not that you'd be able to tell by looking at him, of course. He left his house for the mail. The box along his driveway was completely made of stone, understandably as his home was placed dead-center of a particularly threatening curve in road. It was very likely that mailbox had been a victim of many car accidents in the past. 

Ashton himself was a man of stone, physically, at least then he was. At first glance he was large, tall - not fat- and defined. Intimidating. At second glance Ashton was attractive. Rugged and out dated but classic all the same. It had just came up on six a.m. the sun only starting to rise when he walked the path to retrieve his mail. Drowning in black - black leather boots and black leather jacket - his jeans were black and tight, even his hair was black, greased-slicked away from his face.

He waved back when the situation presented itself, my father was always the overly-friendly type, the new neighborhood only gave him more opportunities. That was the first I'd seen of Ashton, that glimpse from the back seat of my dad's car on the way to school, it was the last I'd see of him for over a month. 

I'd transferred schools more than halfway through the year, it was irritating and, honestly, difficult to waste away my last months as a senior without my friends. I started in February which meant that I'd missed my opportunity to make even those 'only-in-class' type of friends, they'd all already picked their people. 

Although, I wasn't completely lonely. I managed to find a friendly-enough human to have lunch with. 

His name was Luke Hemmings and he was a timid, lanky thing of a man. I didn't start eating with Luke until my second week at Bakerville High, right away I had thought we would clash, we could never get along. Luke dressed like a typical outgoing (likely homosexual, but that's stereotyping) teenager, except sometimes he didn't dress quite so typical. He had soft blond hair he was starting to grow out - he'd tell me later on that his brother had told him long hair would make him prettier - and equally soft blue eyes. Luke's eyes were like the ocean, deep and blue and hiding so many unfound wonders.

If I hadn't gotten to know him as I did, I'd think him a bit of a slut, but he wasn't. 

Like was normal enough, he had friends - though none of them had the same lunch period - and played baseball on the varsity team as a sophomore. Which is probably why I was so surprised when he came into the lunch room after eight days of eating together in a flowing, pleated, blue skirt. 

"My, uh, boyfriend got it for me," the fifteen year old defended half heartedly when he approached our little corner of the cafeteria. He hadn't looked nervous walking in, but then, standing across the table were I sat silent, he chewed the corner of his lip. 

I nodded, and when he finally sat down I realized I may seem a bit less than accepting, so my mouth formed the words to comfort him before my brain could comprehend. "You look pretty," I remember thinking immediately after I spoke those words that 'pretty' wasn't exactly the right word. 

Luke Hemmings was truly a stunning person. 

His eyes shot up from his packed lunch to my own and he hid a bright smile, a tiny 'thanks' muffled behind his hand. 

But, beyond Luke, there was Ashton. The man I'd only seen once in passing. A man I would finally meet on April 3rd at a neighborhood cookout organized by my own father. 

Now, I say Ashton was 'beyond Luke', but that's not to say that Ashton was above Luke, not then. And it's certainly not to say I was more attracted to one than the other. That's not the case. Ashton simply was beyond Luke. A fact I would come to see in April. 

April 3rd was a Saturday that year. A particularly warm Saturday evening for the time of year, and my father had lined up picnic tables in our yard to take advantage of the beautiful day. 

The Hemmings' were a bit later than the others who'd come to humor my dad's movie-scene expectations for the neighborhood. My dad was manning the grill and I, as the only son, was working as sous chef. Luke saw me basically as soon as he left the car, if not before. He held his skirt down with one hand and shuffled quickly in my direction. 

"Luke!" I let myself laugh a bit at the sight of him hurrying along in high-healed combat-style boots through slightly damp grass. I knew by then that he'd take no offense to it. 

"I didn't know you lived on the block!" It was a bit of an accusation and a bit of an excited joke. 

I told him I hadn't know the same of him. "I don't," he shook his head, some of his hair pulled back into a tiny bun at the back of his head. "Just the around the corner, actually, but Ash always finds his way to these type of things." 

He nodded back at the vehicle he'd come from, where the man from my first day of school stood in almost identical attire to the first time I'd seen him. 

'Ash' as my friend had called him, walked right up to us. A wrapped dish in one hand, the other busy with an iPhone. My dad was quick to turn from the grill at the sight of another adult to befriend. 

The man who introduced himself as Ashton Hemmings apologized for crashing the party and explained to my dad that they - him, and after hearing the shared name, I assumed his son, Luke - lived literally around the corner in the bend of that awful curve. He said that someone on the end of my block had informed him of the gathering, my dad told the Hemmings' that they were welcome to stay. Me and Luke wandered off, picking over some of the finger foods, as our fathers continued talking. 

"So, who's your friend?" The deep voice sounded from behind us as we walked. I turned to see Mr. Hemmings coming towards the tree we'd decided was good enough shade to sit under. 

"This is Calum. Calum, Ash. Ash, Calum. We have our lunch break together, this is Cal's house." The crossdresser explained. I thought it was odd that he called his dad by his first name. 

Ashton nodded his understanding, putting one large hand forward for a handshake I was nervous to return. "Nice to meet you, Calum, you looking after my boy?" 

I sputtered, looking for the right words - any words - to say. Me and Luke were just friends, and yeah okay, maybe I found him extremely sweet and adorable, and maybe it wouldn't have been the worst thing to call him my boyfriend, but we weren't dating. 

"Ashton!" Luke smacked the back of his hand against an - extremely large - bicep, not nearly hard enough to do any damage, not that I thought he was really trying to. "It's not like that." 

The leather clad man chucked, he gave a wave behind Luke to a man that called his name. "Whatever you say, princess." 

"Ashton!" Luke flushed a deep red. 

His dad just rolled his eyes, pulling the boy closer by his jaw and planting a quick kiss dangerously close to Luke's lips before walking over to the group of parents with a soft ruffle of Luke's styled hair. 

"Ignore him." Luke instructed and I nodded. 

"Why do you call your dad by his name?" I questioned, genuinely expecting the explanation to be that Ashton was a step parent. A situation which would make my own attraction to my friends parental figure slightly better, but that almost-kiss slightly worse, in my eyes at least. 

Luke laughed, a real eye-squinting, stomach-hurting, tears-falling kind of laugh that had me questioning my existence. 

"Ashton's not my dad." He didn't elaborate for a moment as he wiped his eyes and finally sat down on the bench of the table, shielded by the trees shade. I let myself believe for a moment that then Ashton could've been the boyfriend Luke had mentioned fleetingly. However, the shared last name, the obvious age difference and the assumption that Luke and I were an item threw that idea down the drain. 

I nodded but I could feel the confusion on my face. Which Luke must have seen because his smile fell and he started tracing patterns in the wood table as he spoke. 

"My mom died in a car crash when I was eighteen months old. My dad and Ash were friends in college. Ash told me my mom didn't believe in it so they didn't do it before, but my dad did and made Ashton my godfather a couple weeks after she died. I guess he was - my dad was probably planning it, because he killed himself on my second birthday. Dumped me off on Ash and well, here we are." 

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," 

"No, it's fine. You didn't kill them, and besides, I never knew them really. It's always just been me and Ash and Mike." 

"Mike?" 

"Yeah, he lives with us. Well, not right now cause he's staying on campus in Greenburrow, but usually." 

"Oh," I muttered again. Campus, so college. Did that mean Mike was Luke's boyfriend, Ashton's boyfriend - was Ashton even interested in men - a family member of some kind? How old was Ashton anyways, old enough to have and fifteen year old, but was that still young enough to date a college kid? 

My eyes shifted to the man in question. He surely didn't look old. Until that day I probably would've guessed that he himself was a college student. But Luke said that his father and Ashton were friends in college, which must mean Ashton is now out of college. At least I thought it should. 

Better to just ask than to assume, friends talk about these things right? "So, how old is Ashton then? You said he was friends with your dad in college, but he doesn't look old enough to have a fifteen year old- not that he does, but technically, well, you know, it's just-" 

"'Cause he's hot?" Luke snorted a bit unattractively if anything he did could be considered unattractive - it couldn't. "You can say it, everyone else does. Plus, it's kind of true." 

I shrugged, a feeble attempt to maintain some dignity with my only friend in that town. 

"He turned twenty-eight just after he was saddled with me, so that makes him forty-one now." 

I tried my best not to let my eyes fall out of my head, literally, with how wide they went. No, Ashton certainly did not look forty-one, but what did forty-one even look like? In that moment I wasn't sure I knew, he was even older than my father by a year. 

"You can't stop drooling over my "dad" anytime you want, now." Luke joked a few moments later, hands moved to air quote the word "dad" as he spoke.

He shuffled again towards me. Sitting on my side of the table and following my gaze to his guardian. 

"You know what," he said, but it was not really a question. He wrapped a hand around my own arm, "you're eighteen." He whispered like a secret. Considering his next words, maybe it was. "Does it really matter how old he is?" 

And then, with my only friends encouragement, I had to assume it didn't.


	2. Chapter 2

Luke missed school the Monday after my fathers attempt at a cook-out. 

He missed the following two days after as well, skipping baseball practices and consequently lowering his chances to play. I saw him in the hall the next day, but he never came to lunch. 

When he returned to our usual lunch spot on Friday - April the 9th, then - he was the most dressed-down I'd seen him. He tossed his packed lunch on the table in front of my school tray and tugged the neckline of his shirt up to cover where my eyes followed a trail of bruises from chin the chest. He didn't give me the time to ask where he'd been or comment on the hickeys before, "You wanna come over tonight?" 

I blinked. Shrugged out a nonchalant "sure" and acted as if that wasn't the most composer-crushing question I'd been asked that day. 

Luke smiled, the same way I'd seen him smile after torturous minutes of him begging me to do his homework only for me to fall victim to his eyes and give in. A victorious, and slightly spoiled, type of 'I've gotten my way' satisfaction. 

And so he had. The rest of lunch was as if the past week hadn't happened. He at his alarmingly healthy lunch, I picked through my school lunch, I offered him half of my candy bar from the vending machine and, like usual, he declined. We finally texted our parents towards the end of the lunch break, at least I had, I assumed he'd informed Ashton as well.

After my first day of school, which my parents insisted on driving me to, I drove myself to school. So we'd reasoned that Luke would just ride with me to his house, instead of making his godfather come to get him. 

The road going back from school put Luke's house on the opposite side of the road from where I was driving. I had to speed up into my turn to avoid oncoming traffic and only narrowly avoided the stone mailbox as I did it. Luke tried to hide his amusement from as I took the gravel road to the house. 

I realized belatedly that I'd never been to the Hemmings house before. Likewise Luke had never been inside my home either, but the pure force of the fact that Ashton was inside had me hesitant to leave my car. 

As soon as I did though, I could hear the music from garage blasting, as if someone had turned it up the moment I stepped out. 

"Don't mind that," Luke said with and eye roll. He held open a door that led into a little mud room that connected the house to the garage. There were multiple sizes and styles of shoes lined up neatly in specific little trays in different areas of the room, Luke toed off a pair of worn out, stained white converse. I slipped off my own shoes, assuming it was expected there, even though I'd never done so in my own home. "Mike is home so it's... loud. He's really fucking loud, so just ignore him." 

"Say it to my face, why don't you?" 

If they were all blood related I would tell you there must be something in the Hemmings genes, something that made them just that much more attractive than anyone you'd meet before them. (Or after, for that matter). 

Michael was a different type of stunning. I hadn't known what to expect of the twenty-three year old. Luke didn't like to talk much about his family, but the images I'd conjured of a smaller version of Ashton or a larger version of Luke - he hadn't told me which of them Michael was actually related to, only that they were brothers - were both completely off. 

None of them matched the way I thought a family should. 

Luke himself was still a mystery to me. In my eighteen years I had never met a man that confident in himself, let alone a boy younger than myself willing to wear eyeshadow to play a baseball game. 

Michael was an even lighter porcelain shade than Luke, his hair was bright, unnatural red, and his style was much simpler than that of the others. He had on a baggy sort of cargo pant where one leg was striped in red and black and the other was a solid red which he paired with black shirt with words I couldn't make out printed across his chest. 

I could see in his face that he'd come for a fight. Luke had to have picked up on it, but easily slipped into an innocent, whiny sounding question. "What do you mean, Mikey?" 

"I mean, fucking tell me to my face or quit your constant bitching behind my back." 

Luke flinched a bit, lowered his voice like he didn't want me to hear, but pulled me closer behind him. "Why-why are you doing this right now?" 

Michael leans nose to nose, following Luke's lead of lowering his voice, but we're all so close it did barely any good. "You know better... bringing him here?... Ashton's already... I've told you before..." and well, maybe it did do some good when paired with the blaring music. Or maybe I had just been distracted by the parental figure of the arguing siblings standing shirtless behind the college student. 

Ashton was yet another kind of mismatched gorgeous, bare chested with low resting sweatpants leaving little to my imagination. And god did I want to imagine, except that his - for all intents and purposes - son who just so happened to be my best friend had his ass nearly pressing against my crotch. Ashton had a collection of tattoos I noticed then, they ran down his arms and-

"I think Calum's heard enough, Michael." Ashton snaps in the same fatherly voice my own dad used to stop sibling rivalries before they even got to start. 

Michael closed his eyes, body visibly draining of the will to fight. He sighed through his nose, causing a curl on Luke's forehead to shift its placement, "Yes, sir." 

"Nice to see you again, Calum." Ashton smiled around the redhead who had yet to move. The brothers seemed to be conversing through glances. "Hope you can forgive that," 

It didn't seem much like a question so I just gave a nervous laugh and a nod. 

"Lu, take him upstairs 'til dinner, won't you." 

"Yes, sir." 

Luke linked our fingers behind his back and practically dragged me through the doorway, shouldering past his brother. He barely left me enough time to whisper a quiet apology for bumping into the man. 

The door from the mud-room lead into a living area. I didn't get to analyze it, to look for awkward family photos. Anything of the sort to give me a hint to this family's dynamic. 

Luke lead me up a set of stairs just beside a flatscreen television mounted to the wall. Once we'd reached the top I counted three rooms to my right before we entered one to the left, Luke never slowed his pace. 

"He's not usually like that," Luke defended when he'd shut the door. I vaguely wondered if he was suppose to do that, I certainly couldn't have had a boy in my room with the door shut. Maybe that's just a difference in parenting?

"Ashton or your brother?" 

"Ash of course. Mikey is always like that, big asshole, he is." 

I nodded like I understood, but I didn't, not really. "If you're going to be hanging around here then you should know Michael's not really my brother. We just say he is, like we say Ash is my dad, cause it makes things easier for people. But I wouldn't go pairing us as family to Mike's face. And anyways, don't worry about that thing downstairs, Mike's a bit dramatic, and Ashton did know you were coming."

Luke scanned my face like he was searching for judgement, I hoped he didn't find any. He mustn't have, because he flopped back into his bed, patting the baby-blue comforter in invitation.

I knew then, laying beside him, that I had already royally screwed myself over for the day. 

And we hadn't even made it to dinner.


	3. Three

My first dinner with the Hemmings family simultaneously better and worse than what I'd expected. 

I'm not current sure what I'd expected, thinking back on Luke's healthy lunches, but usually parents just ordered a pizza when I'd come over. Ashton, as it turned out, was the cook of the house. He was arranging separate dishes in the kitchen when Luke lead me into the kitchen.

Ashton sent me - us? - a quick smile when we entered. "Michael, plates please." His eyes didn't leave my own until the man in question popped up from what must've been a walk-in pantry. Michael tossed a small packet of something to Ashton and obeyed wordlessly. 

Luke moves away from me to grab four sets of utensils from a drawer beside his godfather. 

They moved as if they knew where the others would be before they were there. Michael elbowed past me in a less-than friendly manner, laying the plates out on the empty table. Ashton filled four cups with ice, and three with different liquids. Luke wrapped each fork and knife set in a paper napkin and set them around the table before he grabbed the light blue plate from the table. 

Ashton set two of the drinks down, one to the right of a black plate and one to the right of the empty spot. "I didn't know what you'd want," Ashton speaks, handing me the glass with only ice and placing a dark drink beside of the red plate on the table, "We've got tea and lemonade... just rummage a bit, you'll find something." 

Our fingers brushed when I took the glass, I hurried away from the contact pouring myself some lemonade simply because it was already out on the counter. 

"Oh Calum, here's-" Luke had placed his full plate back on the table, moving to hand me a clean white plate but nearly knocked the glass out of my hand as he did. 

Ashton steadied with a low hand on my back and a chuckle. "Easy, Lu." 

Luke let me set my drink down before he tried to hand me the empty plate again. "Sorry,"

I hurried to get my food, grabbing a bit of everything because I felt it was more polite that way. Ashton was behind me the whole time, the last to get his food. 

I was awkwardly sat between Ashton and Michael, Luke was in front of me. Luke smiled at me when I sat, I hadn't said a word since coming down the stairs, I think it made him a bit nervous. Ashton's arm blocked the blond from my vision, dumping the little packet into Michael's tea. Michael just stirred it with his knife. I watched the ice cubes create a tiny tornado within the glass. 

There was a quick jab to my leg, Luke tilted his head to his godfather and raised an eyebrow. I raised one hand palm up, fork in hand in a 'what' motion.

Ashton repeated a question about my family's moving to town so late in the year and I explained that my father got a better job selling cars here. Ashton nodded understanding, chewing a piece of chicken before asking if I'd played any sports at my old school. 

"Soccer, but I came too late in the year to start here." 

"You could do track," Luke suggests, he'd only taken a bit of salad and was pushing it around in his plate, watching the table like a game of poker. 

"Track is not soccer, dimwit." Michael mumbled, Luke threw a crouton at him which was promptly eaten. 

"No but like, track is just running and soccer has a lot of running. I don't know, Calum, you look like you run." 

"Should run," I thought it was a bit rude having just met me. I wasn't the most fit in the room, obviously this family had better habits than my own, but I wasn't doing bad for myself. 

Ashton sighed, "Do we really have to do this again?" 

A snappy, "No, sir." Was the last thing Michael said that night. Although he was far to happy to shoot daggers in his glare whenever the eldest looked away. 

"I've never done track before, I might have to try it though. Have they started yet?" Luke told me that the schools team hadn't had tryouts yet and Ashton informed me that he had ran in high school. 

"Like, two hundred years ago," Luke giggled at his expense. 

Ashton gave a mocking laugh, he ran a hand through his gelled hair as he did it and knocked a piece loose. It dangled just between nose and the inside corner of his eye, barely avoiding long eyelashes. 

Michael blew bubbles in his tea, his meatless plate nearly clean. He twirled the butter knife he'd used to stir his drink with and then he did the weirdest thing. He winked at me while twirling a fucking knife. 

Luke and Ashton had an easy-going banter throughout they rest of dinner, occasionally one of them would engage with me. An attempt to be sure I wasn't feeling left out, no doubt. I answered questions when prompted, asked a few of my own when I had the desire. Besides the rage manifested beside me, it went rather smoothly. 

It was barely past six o'clock when we'd all finished picking through the last of our meals. My parents weren't expecting me back until much later, so I didn't give it a second thought when Luke's godfather suggested a move and desert. 

The youngest Hemmings offered me some ice cream, something I hadn't thought would exist in that house, which he brought to me himself as Ashton cleaned up the kitchen a bit. Luke handed me a bowl and a remote, I sat on the far end of the couch content to wait for one of the Hemmings before actually choosing a movie. 

There was a crash, in the kitchen or elsewhere I didn't rightly know, and the red headed Hemmings gave a, "got it." to the eldest. I only knew the words were for Ashton because Luke had re-entered the family room with a bowl of strawberries and grapes. 

"Grape?" He offered, I shook my head no. "Budge up, then." He wiggled between me and the armrest of the couch. I shuffled over to the center a bit awkwardly. 

Ashton and Michael came in seconds after, Luke had already begun sifting through thousands of movies choices. Michael took the love seat to the right, closest to Luke - I was inwardly thankful he'd not chooses the identical one closer to me - he had more tea and a packaged string cheese in his hands. Ashton had a bowl of ice cream identical to mine. 

"Budget up, then." He parroted my friend. I'd started to move closer to Luke, but realized quickly that was not what he'd meant. "You like Star Wars, Calum?" 

I'd never seen it, so I told him that. Ashton said that was absolutely unacceptable of me, and Luke started the series at episode 4. "You've gotta watch it that way," he'd claimed. 

A bit into the movie after Luke had expressed his hatred for Princess Laia's hair and explained to me that Han was the only attractive male in the whole movie - to which I wasn't sure I agreed but I hadn't watched enough to know, I couldn't concentrate on it for the feeling of Ashton's muscles flexing and un-flexing every time he moved his spoon- and long after I'd sat my half melted ice cream on the table beside me Luke shifts a bit in his place, gaining both Ashton's and my own attention. I tried not to seem like I was watching him pat Ashton's thigh for a bite of the ice cream. 

Ashton tilted a spoonful of the stuff into the blond's mouth, getting cheeky grin in return as a bit of it spilled down his chin. I stopped breathing when Ashton turned to wipe the stickiness away with his thumb. They had gained Michael's attention when Ashton planted the bowl in the young boys lap, and earned a kiss to his lips sweet enough to put the ice cream to shame. 

Ashton broke the kiss and threw both his arms along the top of the couch and resting them over not only Luke's shoulders but mine as well. "Finish that, Sweet-pea." He'd said, lips against the fifteen year old's temple. 

I had just let myself breathe again when Ashton's thumb started moving in circles across my shoulder. 

I had just taken in a breath when Luke giggled around his spoon. 

I didn't breath again after Michael stormed out.


	4. Four

Leaving the Hemmings' house that night felt like sneaking into a graveyard. 

"Calum, wait!" Luke jogged through the same side door we entered with. Stutter stepping when his bare feet moved over the loose gravel, he slowed at the open drivers door of my car. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothings wrong. My parents are expecting me home soon." 

He tapped his toes against the top of his other foot, effectively balancing on one leg. He looked even younger then. "Are you mad at me? Did I do something?" 

I shook my head no, turning in my seat to face him, my feet were on the rubber pieces that would seal the door shut. Luke took two quick steps to settle between my knees. 

"You're rushing out though," he said at the same time that I asked, "Do you always make out with your dad?" 

Luke's hand was on my knee then, he picked at a hole in my jeans. "He's not my dad and we weren't making out. We're family though, we've always been like that. Is that why you're being weird?" 

"Your brothers rude." "I know, I warned you, I'm sorry. Do you have to go?" 

I nodded that yes, I did need to leave. He nodded back like he understood. 

He asked again if I was upset with him, I told him I'd been shocked but it wouldn't effect our friendship. He still looked at me like he was going to cry the moment I shut the car door so I lifted a hand to push a curl behind his ear and gave him the softest smile I could manage. 

"So, you'll still drive me home after track tryouts right?" He asked. We'd never spoken of it before, but I had said I would check out the track team and our practices would end at roughly the same time. I decided that since I was already forcing myself to be okay with the ice cream situation I could probably do the same with anything else the little Hemmings boy had to throw at me. 

I said I'd drive him. "Yay! Okay, you've gotta go now."

I turned back around in my seat, letting him close the car door for me. He practically skipped back through the gravel, waving at me from the door.

Pulling out of the Hemmings' driveway wasn't much better than pulling in. The curve was even more daunting in the dark but at least the headlights of another car might give me some warning. 

I asked Luke, that next Monday in my car after the first day of tryouts, if he still had that boyfriend who bought him pretty clothes. He shrugged like he didn't know the answer himself so I didn't press the issue. 

He asked me to stay for diner again, with the shock factor of their family dynamic behind me I'd had no reason to decline, so I stayed. 

Michael apparently only came over on weekends. Luke complained that he'd be around more once his baseball games picked up, said Michael liked to play the 'supportive brother' role. Otherwise, he stayed on campus for the most part. 

Minus Michael and the awkward arguments, Monday's dinner-with-the-Hemmings was basically identical to Friday's. 

We walked through the side door of the mud room, dropping our shoes and heading towards the stairs. 

"Ash, I'm home, Cal's here!" Luke called, getting a muffled 'alright!' response from the kitchen. 

Luke asked me if I was allergic to anything as we climbed the stairs. I told him only peanut butter and he said he probably should've asked before dinner last time. "I'm not five, I know not to eat it." I told him.

I remember being relaxed, eerily so, in Luke's bed. We'd shifted on the California king so that we could see the television connected to our controllers. I was propped up, a bit awkwardly with my back against the off-white headboard. I had one foot flat against the bedsheets, the other stretched out completely. 

Luke was quickly bored with the game, abandoning it in favor of scrolling on his phone. It made me wonder why he even had the gaming system. 

He flopped around a bit beside me, taking my attention from the game as he rolled his body between my legs. He mumbled a soft, "oops" when his head knocked against the controller in my hands, I didn't have the voice to tell him that was anything but normal. He'd positioned himself on his stomach, his cheek smushed against my chest. One of his hands held his phone at eye level, pressed against the other side of my chest. The other hand fiddled with the hem of my shirt behind him. 

It certainly wasn't a position I'd been any with any of my old friends, but it was the position we stayed in until Ashton texted him telling us to come down for food.

"Calum, can you grab the plates, they're in the cabinet to your right. Yeah, that one." Ashton instructed when we came down at half-past five. 

I took to Michael's job, opening the first cabinet door I came to. It was the right one but I hadn't been sure at first. The leveled cabinet only held four plates on it's bottom shelf. None of the plates matched in their colors. 

Luke's was blue. 

Actually, most of Luke's things were blue. His plate, his bowl, his bedroom walls. The comforter in his room was a pale blue to match his pillowcases. His book-bag and the first skirt I'd seen him wear. 

Luke had a doll-house aesthetic to rival that of any little girls Christmas wishes. Even his eyes matched his power-blue theme, never darkening, always light. 

Ashton's was black. 

No surprise there, Ashton tried his very best to present what I liked to call his 'biker aura'. He wore the color a lot, matched his hair to his clothes, and of course the matching bowl to his dinner plate. Beyond that I didn't know if Ashton has the same repetition of black in his life as Luke did, or if it was just simple coincidence. 

Michael's was red. 

Obviously, his hair matched his plate. His clothes had been a fresh-blood red the day if met him. His attitude seemed to resonate with the startling color associated with rage, but truly, I hadn't known enough about the man to say if the color for him the way the others fit. I didn't even know if his bowl matched the plate, though I had reason to assume it did. 

The last plate, the guests plate, was a white plate. Like the others it was glazed with a shine, the round edges held no design or patter. 

It was my plate, for the evening at least. I knew it had a matching bowl hidden somewhere within the kitchen. This plate was the only one that didn't connect in some way with it owner - well, user. 

I left the red plate where it sat, Luke saved me needing figure out the placement by taking his from my hand. Ashton laid down two lemonades and a water, taking his plate when I offered it. 

Luke still sat in front of me, Ashton to my right. Luke pulled at a piece of fish with his fork, Ashton grabbed a piece of macaroni with his. They were polar opposite. 

My sophomore friend asked me how tryouts went. I explained what the coach had told me and told him I should know by the end of the week. 

"I watched the ending bit," Luke said then, "there's no way you won't make it." 

I dipped a green bean in my ketchup. "Don't ever do that again," Luke laughed, and once Ashton had gotten over his disgust, he laughed as well. He dipped his entire burger in a dollop of the paste. 

It was much easier to engage with the Hemmings without Michael's ever-present resentful glances. I wouldn't tell them that, of course. 

I had to refuse the ice cream after dinner, but stayed for the second movie - fifth episode according to the title - of the Star Wars film franchise. Luke kept tradition with a bowl of fruits, Ashton had ice cream again. 

Luke didn't push me from my chosen spot against the armrest that time. He wouldn't again, for the rest of my visits to that house was my seat. He took the middle cushion between myself and his godfather, leaning his head against the mans shoulder once he'd finished his fruit. 

I wondered how he could like this type of movie when he couldn't even play video games, he covered his ears when the speakers got to be too loud. I wasn't sure how I'd missed that motion the first night, but it explained a bit. 

"Why do you like it if you can't even listen to it?" 

Ashton answered for him, "Think he likes the movies 'cause they're not realistic. Have you ever tried to play, well, any violent game with him, he can't do it." 

Luke argued that he could, he just chose not to. 

"I can too!" He said after Ashton and myself had laughed at his expense. "I can do violent," he pouted.

And that's how my days would go. School, practice, Hemmings, and back home to start the process all over again. It was gradually becoming routine, I was folding myself into the role of a Hemmings. I took Luke home from school, I got the plates, I'd started washing desert bowls. I knew the bathroom from the kitchen on the first floor and the bathroom from Luke's on the second. I had my own shoe tray in the mud room and started parking in the garage. 

Ever so slowly, I was becoming a Hemmings.


	5. Five

I missed all the signs, I know that now, but back then I had been peacefully - even willfully - oblivious.

Luke came to school with hickeys again on the 16th. It was a Thursday and I'd been at his house until 10 o'clock that past night. 

I opened my mouth, whether to make a joke or an accusation I don't remember, but he shut me down rather quickly. He didn't want to talk about it, I should've known as much, he never wanted to talk about it. 

So, I kept my mouth shut. I did my best to keep my eyes away from the purpling skin around his neck and jaw. I didn't let my mind wander to the bruises I knew were smattered along his torso, I'd seen them all before.

He took my silence as an invitation to slide his math work across the table to me, "Do you know how to do this?" He distracted me, "Hillman just puts me to sleep." Speaking of an elderly teacher. 

I did so I tried to explain, once I was positive I'd lost his attention to his salad bowl I finished the paper wordlessly. 

As usual, I offered him half of the candy bar I had bought from the vending machine before the lunch block, and in some strange turn of events , he took it. I guess there's a first time for everything, but - besides the ice cream, which I was still trying to forget about - I'd never seen him eat anything sweeter than an apple. 

Luke packed up his meal and rushed from the cafeteria with the herd of teenagers at the sound of the school bell. I'd followed him halfway down the hall to where he'd paused at his locker before he noticed my presence. I gave him his math book, and completed work, back and turned to head for my own class. He called his thanks down the hall, Hillman's class was his next. 

I caught his eye during warmup stretches. He was sat in the middle of the small set of bleachers. I spared a glanced to the baseball team's practice field beside of ours when I got the chance. It was empty, which meant an off day for the players and an off day in the school week could only mean one thing, 'tomorrow is game day'. 

Now, at that point in my life, I'd been to a fair few baseball games. A couple with my father in large stadiums and double that with friends from my old school, making high school memories and supporting the school team. 

I'd promised Luke long before that Thursday that I'd attend at least his first few games on the Bakerville home field. He'd complained that none of his - other - friends thought it had been an import enough waste of time to watch him play.

There were a few others on the bleachers where he sat, some siblings and a significant-other or two, still he kept mostly to himself. Waiting for me to pack up and take him home for the day. 

Luke hopped off of the metal seats audibly once myself and the other runners had taken a seat on the track. I pulled my practice bag closer to me in preparation to leave as the coached talked about our schedule for the next week and ended practice. 

I shoved myself off the ground and took a water bottle Luke offered to me. One of the underclassmen I'd ran with fame up right beside me, she was so close I could smell her shampoo when she removed her hair from its ponytail. Which she did as she grappled for Luke's attention, "hey, Luke!" 

"Hi, Rachael," I just grabbed my car keys and headed towards my vehicle. I had planned to wait for Luke to finish talking but he followed after me, matching my pace, with Rachael stumbling to catch up behind us. 

"Do you wanna work on that sediment project together?" She called. 

"I'm already with Matt for that," Luke declined gently. "I'm sure Ms. Clay will work something out for you if your partners not helping." 

She looked a bit disappointed stoping with us at the back of my car. I hit a button on my keys as they talked to open the hatch, putting my bag in the car. 

The girl fumbled a bit, and then asked if they could do something that Friday, the next day. Luke mentioned that he had to play in a baseball game, and she suggested afterwards, pretending she'd already known about the game and Luke's involvement. 

"Yeah, maybe after," Luke agreed in a less-than convinced voice. I tried not to listen in from the drivers seat but I was overly curious as to who he would play it. "Look, I gotta go before my boyfriend leaves me here, but we'll see about it, okay." 

He slammed the door shut, whispering "step on it!" as I pulled out of the parking space. 

"Thanks for the help," he complains as we're halfway down the small hill, leaving the schools sports facilities. 

"You had it covered... boyfriend?" 

"She. Never. Stops." He emphasized every word with a smack of his forehead to the glove compartment, I moved a hand from the wheel to his head to stop him. He was going to blow out the air bags, I told him as much anyways. 

"Besides, you're practically my boyfriend, right?" 

And well. No actually. That wasn't something we'd ever discussed. Sure, I was at his house more than my own in the past week, but friends do that. And sure, we were usually cuddled up in his bed or on the couch, but I'd thought that was just a 'clingy-Luke' trait. And maybe I'd had a teeny-tiny attraction to his entire family from the moment I'd met each of them, but I'd shoved that down and ignored it enough to form a pretty strong friendship with Luke. 

Or, I'd thought it was a friendship, at least.

Maybe I'd been wrong about Luke's intentions the entire time? Or maybe he was only joking then and I had been taking it much too seriously. 

Either way, he played that comment off with another that had me feeling equally as awkward in my skin. I swerved a bit on the road, joining in with his laughter. "Unless you'd rather date Ash." 

It wasn't the first nor would it be the last time he'd mention something like that so offhandedly, he'd play it as a joke. He'd joke about me dating any of the Hemmings men, like it was the only reason I'd be around him- if I'd had ulterior motives regarding one of them, even all of them, he'd kid sometimes. 

I brushed it off as another quirky part of Luke Hemmings I'd have to deal with to keep my friend, I didn't really bother me as much as it must sound like. 

We reached his house and followed our becoming-normal routine of showering off quickly - Luke skipped a shower that day, he didn't need it because he hadn't practiced - which wasn't something I'd done with other friends, but I did feel more sanitary. And sanitary was a big thing of Ashton's. I hadn't placed who's clothes Luke would give me, I always returned them the next day, I was already going back to that house. 

We'd lay around for a bit, Luke'd picked up the habit of laying his little body across mine as much and as often as he could. Ashton would call dinner time and we'd make the table together. Then movies, or sometimes games, on the couch with the two Hemmings until it was dark and I had to leave. 

That Thursday had played out no different, but Friday was a new experience. 

Luke was a bouncing ball of energy at lunch, excited to play his first varsity baseball game. He was sure he'd get to start, which was a big deal for a sophomore, and he couldn't keep his attention on any one thing. 

Michael, as Luke had predicted, had driven home again from college. He picked Luke up from school that day and I went to my own practice. For the first time that week, I left the school grounds alone. 

I'd gone home to change clothes and shower, a habit I'd decided to like picking up from the Hemmings. It made me a bit late going back to the fields for Luke's game.

I'd shown up during the second inning, half wondering if I'd already missed my best friend's five seconds of fame on the varsity team, I knew he was excited about it and would be upset if I'd missed seeing his chance to play. 

I passed by the concession stand, grabbing an order of nachos and cheese and scanning the crowd. I couldn't find Ashton, or even Michael's wild colored hair, so I made my way to the empty top rows of the stadium. 

"If you think he likes you, he doesn't." 

I remember feeling him more than I heard him, and I heard his loud and clear beside me. My skin prickled at his presence. 

"Don't talk, just listen." It was none other than Michael Hemmings. I kept my eyes on the game, Luke was in left field. 

"You need to get the fuck away from my family." 

"Luke's my friend I can't just-" 

"Shut up. Luke's greedy and he's spoiled, but he's lonely. He'll do whatever he thinks will get you to stay around longest. He's scheming and conniving and he'll lie right to your face if he thinks it's what you want to hear." Michael wasn't looking at me either. He watched the game like it was his soul purpose in life, lips barely moving to form the harsh words. 

He shook his red hair out, I remember wondering how it had faded so much in the course of past days. From the fighting the week before to then in the bleachers all Michael seemed to do was talk down to Luke and try to hurt him. 

I didn't have the time to respond, to tell him I though he was an awful not-brother - an awfully mean person - because, finally, there was a ball hit to left field. 

Luke shifted on his feet, raising his chest from his crouched position. His first step was an awkward stumble backwards but he quickly found his footing. He caught the ball in midair and -while still stumbling backwards - threw it down the third baseline. The fifteen year old was responsible for the last two outs of the fifth inning. 

He'd fallen during his throw but jumped right back up to celebrate with the team outside of their dugout. I looked up to see Michael standing above me, cheering the boy on as if he hadn't just told me to stay away. We didn't speak of it again but Michael kept his spot a seat away from me. 

The youngest Hemmings managed to get himself on first base when another body joined us up top. 

"D'you see Luce in the field?" His voice always seemed to surprise me. Deep but light, airy almost. 

Michael nodded that he had. "He'll be excited about that, we'll have to do something." Ashton nodded his agreement. 

"See you've found Calum," the eldest Hemmings directed his words to the redhead but looking to me. 

"Hey, Ash," Ashton sat on the level below us, resting his back against Michael, using the redheads thighs as armrests.

"Look, Lu's on third." Michael interrupts.

The next play didn't allow for Luke to advance and score. He was the lead runner at third base with two other Bakerville players on the bases behind him. The scoreboard on the opposite end of the field indicated that the teams next batter was a senior the announcer stumbled over his name, Sean Something-or-other, and reminded the fans that there was one out and bases loaded as he took to the plate. 

I had just checked my phone, replying to a message from my mother, when the crowd screamed, half in delight and half in outrage. 

"Grand slam," Ashton sighs, content but maybe a bit annoyed as well. 

Michael seems to agree, stating he'd hoped Luke would have more to do with scoring his first point than walking across the plate, home free. I had to agree with that, but the team seemed happy enough with it, so I didn't think I actually had the right to complain. 

After the game, which I don't remember the score of but know we'd won, Ashton suggested celebratory pizza. I'd never seen a Hemmings eat pizza, but I hadn't known them long. Michael and myself had driven our own vehicles to the field, but Ashton told us to leave them there and ride with him. 

If I'd thought Luke was hyper before the game, he'd reached a new level of excitement after. Ashton hadn't mentioned to him his idea for celebration, so I'd though it would fall through when the coach and a few of Luke's teammates came over to inform Luke that most of the team was going to eat together. The coach invited Luke's family as well - which didn't really include me, but I don't think he knew that - and a player told them the plan for where to go, if they decided to. 

Luke looked back at me, he fiddled with his baseball bat which stuck up from his bag on the ground. 

He wiggled himself under my arm, forcing our hands to link across his chest. Bold moves from the youngest Hemmings were never a surprise, "I think I'll pass tonight, guys." 

And so I found myself in the back of Ashton's car - which smelled like lemons - in the same position with Luke's hand in mine. He was technically suppose to be in the middle seat, but more accurately in my lap. He'd slung his left leg over my right, kept my right arm around him and his left hand held my right that laid across his chest. Neither of us had bothered with seat belts, which neither of the elder Hemmings in the front cared much for, but they allowed it. 

I told myself, in the less than silent car ride to the small late-night dinner, that I couldn't pass Luke's behavior of as platonic-clingy after that night. And promised myself to confront him about it. 

But not just then, we still had to celebrate.


	6. Mensogen - To lie

"... and he'll lie right to your face if he thinks it's what you want to hear."

•••• 

Our pizza dinner was the most normal experience I'd had with the Hemmings crew. 

"Michael," the tone was scolding, but Ashton looked like he was trying not to laugh, "you don't have to eat it, but don't throw them." 

Luke had pizza grease sliding down his face from the pepperoni that dropped into his lap. Michael had thrown the food across the table to our side of the booth. 

Ashton broke his stoic character, I hadn't stopped laughing since the small 'plop' against Luke's skin had sounded. Luke pouted, tossing the topping in my direction. "It's not funny," he complained that if he stained his uniform his coach would make him run laps. 

Eventually, Ashton drive us all back to the field where Michael and I had left our vehicles. Including mine, Ashton's, and Mike's, there were five cars still spread across the parking lot. 

Luke got out when I did, "I wanna talk to Cal, you can go on." He told his guardian, Michael had already started down the hill and that left me to drive Luke back to his house. I was alright with it, I needed to talk with him as well. 

We leaned against the back of my car, Luke watched Ashton's head lights disappear below the hill and I waited for him to talk, or to get in the car. 

Luke sighed, grabbed my hands to pull me closer. "I wanna tell you some things but I don't want you to leave." 

I shook my head no even though 'no' wasn't exactly what I was trying to say. I was confused. 

"Why would I leave," 

"People do. They just decide they don't want to talk to me anymore," he shrugged. "You're not going to do that, are you?" 

My head shook no again, "I'm here to stay," I promised, "as long as you're not planning to kill me." I joked. 

Luke drifted closer as I spoke. He moved like the plates of the earth, so slowly I hadn't noticed until he was there, nose to nose. "I don't want to kill you," he whispered against my lips.


	7. Six*

I woke up in blue.

Blue sheets, blue walls, blue eyes.

The moons light shone with a dark hue, making the color appear deeper. My mind was half wrapped in sleep, my body covered by sheets. I'd really done it then. 

I laid still, searching my memory for how I'd come to be in that situation, naked in the youngest Hemmings' bed. 

Luke never told me those 'things' he had been so afraid would make me leave. He'd kissed me in the parking lot and shot down my only argument, his age and, more importantly, mine which made me a legal adult. 

We'd stood in the dark together until another car made its way up the hill. We giggled the whole drive back and Luke tempted me into the house in the middle of that horrendous curve at one thirty-two in the morning. 

Luke was as awake as I. I felt his eyelashes brush against my neck as he blinked. He was on his side, back to the crystal-colored moon, his front so tight to me we could've became a single person. He traced his fingers along raised lines of skin he'd created earlier in the morning. The blanket only touched him where his body met mine, he laid one leg completely on top of it to loop around my own. 

I ran my thumb across a new bruise on his hip, one of the few marks he held that was sure to be mine. 

Over-controlling my breathing was the only way to keep my heart rate slow. I took agonizingly slow breaths, I knew I couldn't let Luke think I'd been upset.

"Hey, you okay," he asked despite my attempts. 

"Time's it?" 

He dug his hand across my chest and around my ribs, using my own body weight to counter his and pull himself onto my chest completely. He nipped at my chest once he'd settled comfortably. "A bit after six probably, Ashton woke me up a few minutes ago when he turned on the shower. We can sleep a bit more," he offered. 

I assumed Ashton's shower must've also woken me, the water came from just behind Luke's headboard in the next room over. 

"Or we could..." he left the statement open for my interpretation of his words but left me only one answer to fill that blank with through his actions. 

Luke raised his chest to meet our lips again. He lowered one hand just enough to draw a gasp from my mouth. He smiled into our kiss when my hands gripped his waist, "yeah?" 

"Ashton's - shit, okay - right next door." 

Luke stopped him motions, meeting my eyes. "He'll just have to deal with it. You down?" 

"No, but you can be." 

He rocked himself slowly against my hip, giggling against my cheek and nodding. Then we were kissing again, and then his tongue was hot and wet and making its way down my chest. 

He made his way slowly under the sheets that barely covered us. Dipping lower than necessary to bite into the sensitive flesh on the inside on my thighs causing my whole body to jerk, shock and pleasure. 

"Ah! Wait, Lu, you're gonna have to..." I shifted my legs over to explain the words I couldn't find. He got the message and moved completely between my legs on the bed from where he'd been slightly uncomfortably to my right. 

I slipped my right hand down to twist into his curls, not guiding, just anchoring myself for the moment. Something that didn't last long for me, I'd only let him have his way a for moment before I tugged on his hair to get his tongue where I needed it. 

"Fucking hurry up an-oh!" 

Luke kissed the very tip of me, moving to lay open mouth kisses down the entire length and licking a stripe back up to his starting point with a flat tongue. 

I tried to keep quiet but my efforts proved to be in vain when the blond boy finally let his lips close around me. His fingers pushed hard against my hipbone to keep me flat against the bed, I clutched the pillow behind my head tight enough to rip the pillowcase. 

"Shit, Luke, you're really good at this." The sound was more breath than words, but it still caused him to bob his head a bit lower. My hips jerked and I apologized brainlessly when his throat closed slightly, not gagging but reacting. 

He pulled back from me and shoved the bedding off of the mattress, I gathered a few pieces of hair from his eyes into my fist. I set my feet against the bed and he took it as a sign I hadn't meant for but appreciated nonetheless. "Go for it," I raised my hips with purpose then. 

I gave three quick thrusts and then pulled him down by his hair and kept him there. His throat closed again, tighter, and his cheeks hollowed out. I repeated that process a time or two more before he yanked himself away. 

"Don't come yet," his voice was deeper than it had ever been and rasped a little too harshly, "want you to fuck me." 

"Get back up here then," 

We slowed back down a bit then. Letting our lips slide together, hips rolling practically on their own. Luke let me flip our position, his legs fell limply apart when his back hit the mattress. 

My hands wandered his pale skin as he whined, "Calum," it was all at once a cry of pleasure, a plea for something more and a complaint that I wasn't giving him anything more than soft touches. 

"You're so beautiful," it was said against his neck, the only response I'd give, refusing to speed up our passion just yet. 

He let a quiet moan past raw lips, whispering a "thank you," into the air like the angel he was. My hands moved lower, prodding him with the pads of two fingers. He pulled my face closer to clamp my lower lip in his teeth as I pushed past the tight outer rim. 

His body put up little resistance, welcoming me much easier in our repeat. Luke's muscles tensed for only a moment, whole body acknowledging my presence. I moved to loosen him a bit more, doing everything possible to keep him comfortable. He seemed more-than, locking both arms behind my neck, never letting me stray away from him. 

"Do it, ohgod, just do it. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." He squirmed a little in my arms. 

Pressed so close to mine, Luke's body seemed absolutely tiny. He went lax beneath me when I followed that command, letting me take over, giving full control. 

I moved slow, and deep, and hard. A stark contrast from our scrambled, clawing first time together. 

Luke's eyes closed tightly, face giving away his pleasure. He breathed quickly through his mouth which I kissed lightly to gain attention to my words, "hey, look at me." 

Blue eyes opened on command. His breathing stuttered when I changed the angle of my hips slightly. 

I thought briefly how people spoke of desire darkening the shade of lustful eyes. I knew they'd lied then, looking into Luke's clear ocean eyes, so light then that I feared the color would all but disappear.

"Calum, Cal please," I kept that position, speeding up only slightly to allow for harder thrusts. 

Luke's palm on my chest tapped slightly, begging for recognition. "Wanna-Wanna ride." He'd panted hot into thick air. "Let me ride you." 

And so we switched again. I settled my back against the pillows lining the headboard and Luke sat perfectly in my lap. My hands pulled at his hips, moved lower to feel the flex of working muscles in his thighs and around more to where he'd kept me trapped inside. 

A knock sounded from the door, Luke's hips dropped in shock. I muffled a groan as best as I could but Luke lips had already parted to release his sounds, the loudest he'd been all night. "Ah!" He's head dropped to my shoulder, biting for the pure purpose of biting. "Oh fuck. Fuck, Cal, fuck. There, fuck me there." 

"Well good morning to you too, boys." Ashton cackled from behind the wooden barrier. 

"Morning, morning," Luke mumbled absent mindedly into my skin, far too low for Ashton to actually hear him, but I think that was far from his intentions. His legs shook with the effort needed to get to that feeling again. "Cal, Cal, Cal," he's whispered my name, trying to get his pleasure from me. 

I got the hint, my thoughts leaving the unwelcomed visitor to focus on forcing Luke's body up and back into me all over again. 

"Yes," he kept his head pressed into my shoulder, mumbling around a piece of my skin he'd chosen to suck on softly, more for himself than to mark me. "Thank you, thank you, again." 

"Jesus, Lu," I was quickly loosing strength and stamina. Luke squeaked in his surprise when I reached between us to hurry him along. His body was dead weight against me and I caught a twinge of concern when I felt his tears against my skin. 

"Good baby? You good?" "So, good. Thank you, thank you, thank you." 

I pulled my shoulder closer to my ear, forcing him from his hiding place, never slowing our movement but needing proof that he was alright. "Up then, pretty. Look at me." 

Luke seemed to tremble with the effort to obey, touching our noses together before dragging his eyelids up. Our eyes met, "please?" he bit his bruising lip. 

I pulled that lip from his teeth with my own, "Come on, let it go, come on, Lu." 

He reacted as if I'd pushed a certain button, like those words were the last push he'd needed. I followed quickly after, I nearly ignored my own high in favor of watch Luke come down from his. 

I let him sink into my chest, feathering kisses on my shoulder until he was whining with every breath he took. I disconnected our bodies a gently as I could manage, Luke hardly let me move far enough to grab an abandoned shirt to clean us up with. 

"Don't leave?"

I shook my head, pulling the boy closer I let my lips rest against his forehead and wild curls. "I'm not," he cuddled into me again, "I won't." 

****

When we'd finally showered - separately - and hauled ourself from Luke's room we followed the sound of metal clashing to the kitchen. 

"They live!" Michael exclaimed, wooden spoon pointing our way. "Gotta say, Hood, you had me wondering if you'd killed him up there, what with all the screaming." 

"Fuck off, Michael!" Luke smacked at the older man, getting a snide remark about Luke having done that already. Luke just continued throwing half-hearted hit at the redhead as he spoke. Michael's bottom lip was split and he flipped his mood when the blond tried to poke at it. 

Ashton laughed, watching the two fight as usual. "Calum, come help me with the sausage balls, wash you hands."

I did and soon Luke was tasked with preparing another part of the dinner. I was rolling cheese and sausage together into bite sized balls when something crashed in another room. It had sounded like a plate breaking in the kitchen behind me, but a quick glance around told me that wasn't the case. 

"I'm not doing it again," Michael declined quickly. 

Ashton shook his head, hair free of its usual gel. "It's fine, I've got it. Keep cooking." 

Luke inspected my balls of sausage jokingly, pretending to be a food-network chief filming a television show. I tossed a runaway piece of shredded cheese his way and he gave me a fork full of the filling he was making for deviled eggs. 

"You eat meat, right Calum?" I told Michael that I did. 

Luke complained, "don't be weird, Michael, leave him alone." He pecked my lips quickly, like an apology. "I'm going to go find the egg holder from the holiday stuff in the garage. Please don't scare him off while I'm gone, I'd like to keep this one." 

"You hear that," Michael said when it was just us. "Baby Luke wants to keep you." He laughed with no humor, "man, have you fucked up now."


	8. Seven

Luke took his coffee black. 

An odd fact I'll always remember about him. It fit, he didn't eat chocolate, rarely had sweets, his go-to meal was a salad.

We'd sat down with coffees instead of deserts that Friday, the 24th of April. Everyone had frilled or messed or added to their late night caffeine, all but Luke who didn't even toss in an ice cube. 

We were playing a close game of monopoly - I truly was becoming a Hemmings - Ashton was winning, I was close behind. 

Michael rolled himself into jail and the common crashing down the hall sounded. 

"Loser gets it!" Luke called, though he was only second worst. 

Michael refused, "I've done it a million times this week, pull your fucking weight, Luke." 

They argued, but Ashton didn't offer to leave the room as he had in the past. Usually when the youngest two began to fight peacekeeper-Ashton would jump to the rescue, if only to save face with me. 

That time though, he just looked at me and shrugged. Like he was saying to me, 'what can you do?' I knew what I could do and it would give me the answers I needed without seeming like I was looking. Without seeming too suspicious. 

I could do it without seeming like I didn't trust them. "I'll do it," 

"No," "No," "Okay, settled." 

Surprisingly enough, Michael had been the only one to agree with me. 

Luke wrinkled his nose like something smelled bad, "you don't wanna do that, babe, trust me. I'll just do it, be back in a sec. Don't cheat!" 

The blond had already jumped from his spot around the table, he moved so quickly the air shifted his Monopoly money from the table top to the hardwood flooring. Michael stopped him a bit down the hallway, "wait a minute, now!" 

Luke turned, ice cold blue eyes on the redheaded man. The crash sounded again and then something beat on the wood in a soft, consistent pattern. "Not now, Michael." 

"Hear me out," Michael started anyways, hands raised in false surrender, he'd intended to spend his two cents whether they were accepted or not. "You want keep Calum... around. He should know what he's getting himself into, don't you think."

Michael snorted at a joke he hadn't said, no one else saw the humor either. "Really commit." 

Ashton took that as his cue to step up, "it's up to Luke, Michael. He said no." 

After Luke returned, the eldest Hemmings won the game pretty quickly. Ashton and I shared the job of dishwasher, I washed while he dried and put away the clean dishes. Luke and Michael each made their way to one of the two bathrooms in the home to shower so that Ashton and I could do the same when we'd finished cleaning. 

I was staying the night, planned for once, and going on a shopping-slash-road trip with them the next day. 

"It's an old dog," Ashton days after a beat of silence, well, except for the running water. There was a fully functioning dishwashing machine installed in the kitchen, but Ashton preferred to hand-wash dishes when possible. 

I had been a bit startled by the sudden admission. Never before had they hinted, even in the slightest, as to what the sound had been. Only a few days prior had they admitted in my presence that the sound existed. "What?" 

"That little rumble today," the words flowed like everything else that left that mans lips. High, airy. Rehearsed and calculated. Ashton was not the type of man to tell something on accident. "We have a really old dog. Her names Petunia, she's eighteen and she's not doing so well anymore." 

He sighed and sat the dry mug down on the countertop, turning to face me as he talked. "She's not in any pain or anything like that, but she's blind and she has some heart problems. She's not allowed to run or jump or get too excited, so we have to put her away when people come over." He explained, "except, she's learned how to unlatch her kennel and once she does that she bumps her head against the door until we go get her." 

He took the cup I hadn't noticed I'd stopped cleaning and dried it as he spoke, "I'm sure it's creepy. Weird sounds in the back of the house that we won't talk about? I'd question it."

"Yeah," I said, a bit under my breath, I wasn't sure if I'd actually wanted him to hear it. 

"She's been around for Luke's whole life, as long as Michael can remember. Truth is, we're going to lose her soon and they don't like to think about it, I think." 

In theory, his story made sense. A metal kennel could sound a bit like plates breaking if the dog had nudged the door open quick enough to slam the side of the cage. A blind dog wouldn't know to stop for a closed door and once she'd hit it and learned what that action caused - her people running in to check on her - she'd repeat it until it got the desired reaction. 

I knew, at least, that isolating animals with compromised organs or immune systems was a common recommendation from vets. Most dogs, even the really old ones, would still jump at the mail man - or other intruder - on their property. 

I tried to believe him. I wanted to and for a moment I did. 

But the crash sounded again, late that night. It jolted me from an almost-sleep stage, I'd heard it from upstairs. 

So I un-weaved my limbs from Luke's, the hood of my track jacket covered his eyes opening, "where ya goin'?"

"Bathroom," I lied easily and I thought about making it true. I could ignore the sounds from downstairs, I could pretend nothing was happening. I could choose to believe Ashton's explanation, believe that there was just and old dying dog kept safe from her own excitement bumping into things she couldn't see. 

Or I could go downstairs and be sure of what was causing the sound. If it truly was a dog - it had to be, what else was possible? - then I'd just lead her back to her kennel as calmly as possible. Save Luke or Ashton or even Michael the trip downstairs to help her, after all, it was my fault she was still locked up, if I'd gone home they would've let her out. 

Luke grunted into the sheets, he had already slipped back into sleep. I shut his door as softly as possible behind me and hoped the stairs didn't creek under my weight. 

I stopped in the kitchen, running the tap for a bit of water. I had to be working myself up over nothing, I was going to feel absolutely stupid when all that came from opening that door was a old sick puppy. 

I moved down the hallway, skipping the bathroom door and the two doors that followed, I stopped in front of the very last door. The soft 'boom' of hitting against wood was consistent but nothing was hitting against the door. 

I took a steaming breath - it's just a dog - and grabbed the handle of the white door. 

"Calum," the voice made me jump so far I'd felt like my soul had left my body. Michael leaned his body against the outer frame of the closest neighboring door, he shook his head like he was disappointed in me. 

I'd expected him to force me back up the stairs or out of the house. I thought maybe he'd call Ashton or even Luke down there to expose my snooping. 

He didn't do any of that. He stepped a couple paces closer, I leaned back into the wall, he raised an arm above the door frame and his hand came back with a key. He held it by the dips and offered it to me. "Go on then," 

I blinked at him, wondering if I should take the key. In the end I did, turning the gears inside of the doorknob to click the look out of its place. I handed the key back before I turned the handle. 

At first it just looked like a normal room, the only light came from behind us, Michael told me quietly to flip the light switch to my left. 

The room was set up the same as any I'd seen before, there was a dresser with a broken mirror, even a small chair in a corner. The bed was pushed against the back wall and the singular window was blocked and boarded. 

*this gets gore-y, obviously*

The only real difference between that room and Luke's room upstairs was the chain that ran from the middle of the bedpost. My eyes followed it, still hoping to find the main character of Ashton's earlier story. 

I found Petunia in that room. She was not a dog. She was a frail, bloody and bruised middle aged woman. Her hair fell to her shoulders in tangled up knots, matted with blood. The chain on the bedpost connected to a metal collar - a giant handcuff - around her neck. 

She sat crisscrossed on the floor, he back was to me and I watched her lean backwards and slowly forwards, knocking her head against the wooden post of the bed. She did it again. And again. 

And again. 

"Holy fuck," her head snapped towards my voice. I was afraid it might roll off with the speed of it. She pressed her body into the wall and slowly stood. I shook my head, I was probably in some state of denial. 

Michael grabbed my arm, pulling me a step back as Petunia charged forward. I closed my eyes tight and listen to the sound of plates crashing, the chains. She'd lunged at me but didn't have the range beyond her metal leash. 

She tried to reach me, clawed with the only hand she had to reach me. The chain was pulled tight but she wasn't moving back. 

Michael let go of me then, letting me take in the room around me. I didn't move, I don't think I even took a breath. How could I, who were those people, the Hemmings. 

"What's wrong with her legs?" My voice sounded painful in my own ears. I should've ran, or tried to help her, I shouldn't have been asking questions. But I'd focused in on the dripping red bandages, it was odd to me, to offer medical assistance to someone held captive in your home. The white wrapping covered both her thighs and wound around the muscle of one calf, there was at least one fresh wound because the red color was overtaking the white as she stood. 

"You eat meat, right?"


	9. Eight

High school seniors are forced to endure the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald for days, unending weeks, to receive the credit that gets them a diploma that might land them an 'alright' minimum wage job. It's never expected that those children connect to or even remember the stories they read in class. 

Still, when I think of Michael Hemmings I think of the a symbolic character from the Great Gatsby. The narrator of that particular story frequently mentioned a billboard from which Dr. TJ Eckleburg watched over the people. 

Dr. TJ Eckleburg is not a person, he is the billboard itself. An ad for his doctorates office, just two eyes. No face, no nose, no mouth, all seeing, all knowing, never speaking. 

That's how I came to see Michael. All knowing, never changing. 

Michael had known what - who - had been behind that last door. Michael had known my curiosity would get the best of me. Michael was vegetarian. Michael came home on the weekends. Michael gave me the key. Michael never lied. 

Michael had known what my reaction would be before I'd even realized I was reacting. 

I didn't run, didn't scream. I walked from the room, shaky but calm. He let me go right past him, he didn't try to stop me, just locked the door back behind himself. 

Michael told me everything that night. He left me to stare blankly at the wall, knowing I couldn't leave, as he climbed the stairs to wake the others. 

I lied, just then. 

Michael hadn't known that I couldn't leave, he'd given me every opportunity to do just that. 

Michael had known that I wouldn't leave. 

At first, Luke was furious. I'd never again see rage like that in another persons eyes. He'd screamed and yelled, he threw a few things across the living room, and then he cried. He ripped at his hair, he beat his fists against Ashton's chest when the man tried to calm him. 

My arms opened but I hadn't told them too. Luke blinked at me like he hadn't a clue who I was but then he was in my closing arms. 

"Okay," Ashton broke through the white nose of Petunia's head knocking into the wood. "What do we do now?" 

He was asking Michael maybe Luke? Except he wasn't, his eyes were on me like I had answers. Like it was all my fault and I had to fix it. 

Luke didn't answer him but he he pulled his head from my chest to tell me, "I don't want to kill you," 

I hadn't the will to even ask that he didn't. I knew my options were limited. I couldn't call the police, they couldn't take a chance that I'd keep to a promise of it. They couldn't let me go, I couldn't leave. The only option I saw was for them to kill me, or keep me as they had kept that woman, eventually killing me anyways. 

The smallest man was frantic, considering everything I'd learned minutes prior, I hadn't thought I'd meant that much to him. "You could stay. Would you stay with us? You could stay." 

"Lu," Ashton exhaled, "do you trust that?" 

"I do," Michael shrugged, "we could move early and-" 

"It won't work," Luke crawled from my arms, suddenly finding his composure. He instead pulled my head to his chest, I let him, too afraid to anger anyone in the room to worry about why he'd began to comfort me. "We don't take chances, Michael, I've told you." 

"I think it would this time. Look at-" 

"Michael! I know, okay. I get it, I like him too but if we take that leap and miss that's it. We're done, all of us, me, you, Luke. That's life in jail assuming they don't just fry us all." 

I really didn't think Michael was arguing because he liked me. I hadn't thought he'd liked me much at all. But if I looked back, I could've seen that protecting me had been Michael's goal all along. 

I felt Luke nod, watched him raise one hand towards the redhead, his grip on me tightening. "Mikey," his soft voice was almost motherly. Like killing me would be the worst on Michael instead of Luke who had just broken down in tears at the thought, or me, who was listening to his friends debate his death. "I will not ever let that happen to you," 

"Jesus, Dad, look at him!" Michael avoided the blond's hand, he slammed a fist against the coffee table. "I just showed him the eight biggest horrors in the word and told him you goddamn eat people and he's still fucking happy to be cuddled up to you." 

Luke followed his instructions, pulling away from me to meet my eyes for the first time since I'd learned the truth. Michael kept going, explaining that I hadn't tried to leave or fight, that I hadn't screamed or even puked at the sight of that room. Luke glanced to Ashton and Ashton shrugged. 

"Okay. Alright, okay, fine."

*Petunia=gore*

He stood abruptly, forcing Michael to trip backwards. Luke took my hand a guided me back to Petunia's room. Ashton and Michael followed silently behind me and I didn't struggle. 

Luke moved across the room quickly. He pulled the chain around in such a way that the woman connected to it had no way to lunge as she had before. He grabbed the hand that tried to rip his eyeballs out and like a scene from a movie he snapped the two bones of her forearm in half. A moment later and I'd learn the reason for that, but as it happened I watched the woman without a tongue scream. 

"As 'committed' as it gets," he mumbled Michael's earlier phrasing as he crossed the room with calculated steps. He came back to my side with the blade of a knife trapped between his fingers. "If we're going to move," he explains to the three of us, "she's got to go anyways, so," 

Luke offered the handle of the object to me, "Calum?"

He stepped back when I took the weapon. I knew my options, kill her to earn their trust and maybe even a spot in the family, or I could choose not to kill her and we would both die anyways. 

I took the chance to look around at who'd I'd known as the Hemmings'. Even with the knife I wouldn't have won in a fight, but that's a thought that only comes to me looking back, it didn't even cross my mind. 

I met Ashton's eyes. They looked almost dead then, dark and emotionless. Not sad, not scared, not excited, just blank. I thought back to the first time I'd seen him, he'd captivated me even then. My mind pulled up all the quirky things I hadn't realized I'd learned about him. He's a neat freak, prefers to hand wash dishes and wipes down the television remote every night. He liked cars, could talk about any make any model any time and he liked to watch game shows but only as a family, never alone. 

Beside Ashton, Michael stood, as he had earlier that morning. Michael who's response to any situation was anger or sarcasm. Who growled more than he spoke but thought like a guard dog. He'd tried to warn me and then he'd tried to protect me. 

My eyes moved between the men. From Ashton and the over to Michael and beyond Michael was Luke. I'd always compared Luke's eyes to an ocean, beautiful blue and shining, but far deeper than any human could hope to reach. The pressure of discovering the secrets within the depths of Luke's eyes was enough to kill a man. In that moment, I was sure to be that man, compressed, drowned. 

Luke wanted things I knew then I couldn't give. Shouldn't give, but I wanted to. 

I knew then that the devil was not a demon. He was not Lucifer, not Ashton. The devil was not in the eyes of the police, or in my fathers harsh words. The devil didn't whisper into the ears of the pure. 

He didn't force me to sell my soul. He muttered a feeble plea for me, a soft beckoning, begging for my attention. 

And like Lucifer, I fell.


	10. Nine

My fathers car was hit mid turn in the middle of that gruesome turn into the Hemmings my driveway. 

I don't know how he'd heard about the fire but he had. My parents had rushed to where first responders were already taming the flames.

My father had died on impact, my mother followed him hours later from the hospital. Michael told me three weeks after their funerals. 

All four of us had been pronounced dead upon arrival.

The Hemmings picked their hunting grounds strategically. Because of me, they hadn't the time to stake out a new home, which meant we were hotel hoping for a while. 

When they weren't playing their roles, Luke took the lead. Usually, Luke drove but when he didn't he laid out a carful plan for Ashton or Michael to follow. 

We kept to the main highways for the most part, occasionally we'd pull off an exit ramp and flounce around like a happy family. They'd slip back into their predetermined roles, I found my own pretty quickly. Luke said it was much too suspicious to take a straight shot to our destination - which we hadn't then figured out. So we made the best of tourist locations along the way. 

When Luke drove, Michael sat in the back row with me. Michael got me up to speed with the way of the worlds of the Hemmings'. Michael was the look out for our new home. 

I asked him what exactly he was looking for, I'd expected a criteria for housing, I didn't get it. "Newly sold houses," he told me, "we've gotta catch a family as they move in, but we need to get them before they meet any new people in the area." 

Ashton then explained from the passenger seat, "'Sold' sign means the paper words been signed, after that no one really care who lives in the house." He said, "if we get in before they become part of the community we can become them. It keeps the paper trail away from us." 

I didn't exactly understand how it was all suppose to work, I didn't question it. 

Our second hotel gave way for a slight set back. Luke used that set back as an opportunity for me to prove myself to the group. 

The cheap hotel room we'd chosen had been broken into while we slept, the hitchhiker had held a gun at arms length when he flipped the light switch on. Michael was the closest to the door and easily disarmed the man. The red head then sat calmly crisscrossed on the bed, beside the spot Ashton has left. 

Ashton moved to the dirty man, Ashton's first move was to knock the mans legs out from under him. A swift kick to the mans knee cap had him scrambling backwards on the floor. Ashton crushed the mans fingers under his boot as the man tried to crawl away - we'd not bothered changing clothes and the floors were far too dirty for bare feet. 

Luke sat up next to me, "Honey," he called to Ashton, "Slow down, close the door at least, my love." 

I don't know how my mind had become so content with violent acts of rage that I could complain, "I thought I was your love?"

Two hands cupped at my cheeks, pulling my focus from the bones breaking under Ashton's hands, "Oh," the blond sighed, like you would to a crying child, "you so are, of course you are." 

Luke pulled me in for a peck but I reached for his hair to keep him there. He didn't let me deepen the kiss, he pulled back to request, "Ash, let Cally take this one, yeah? Help him along." 

The man shrugged like it hadn't mattered either way to him. He pulled a knife from the one bag we'd taken in and held it by the blade to pass of to me. Michael moved over to the bed I'd left, cuddling in with Luke. 

Ashton taught me how to best hold the knife. He taught me which cuts would kill and which would hurt. That night, maybe morning, the man showed me how to pull human meat from the bones without killing the person. 

When we woke the next morning, the hitchhiker has bled out on the floor at the foot of mine and Ashton's bed. And while Luke commented on my 'natural skill' he refused to use the meat, concerned with the cleanliness of its provider. 

And so started our April tradition of choosing a random to kill and leaving their filleted meat behind for the world to find. 

Ashton drove us right up to the old house. Luke was in the back seat with me, asleep against the window. "Dad," Michael reaches from the front to shake the blond's shoulder.

They hand cuffed me to the interior of the car while they, in Luke's words, 'took care' of the homeowners. When they returned Luke was blood stained and grinning. 

He came over to me, reaching around my body to open the restraints. "So, what do you think?" 

"Come on, let's get this shit inside and then I can start on dinner." Ashton interrupted my response. 

The blond jumped from the car again, the lone house light barely giving off enough rays to make out their facial features. I watched Luke go up to the other man, he took a bit of splattered blood from his own body on two fingers and dirtied Ashton's closed lips with it. 

"Finally," Luke might have groaned in pleasurable content as he spoke. He rocked up on his toes to kiss the blood for Ashton's lips, "some clean meat." 

That night, we became a family, the four of us. 

Ashton played dad, Luke recycled his story of godchild. Michael assumed the position of Ashton's biological son and I, well, I was adopted.


	11. The End... For Now

"So, how old was Luke, then?" The man is beyond drunk. A police officers, he was complains about his job to me all night. 

"When we met? He was thirty-nine." 

"That just makes no sense," he mumbles to himself. The bar is empty except for the two of us and the bartender who's busy cleaning behind the counter to look busy. I don't actually like alcohol, so the glass the brunette brings me is water. The officer gets another beer and I talk him into a shot as well. 

"Why are you telling me this story anyways?" 

"Remember," I say, "I told you that once a year they pick an extra-" 

The officer cuts me off, I think that he thinks I'm telling some kind of campfire story. 

"Yeah, yeah," his name is Johnathan Jameson and he works in Austin's local police station, he's stayed stagnant in his position for eleven years. "They pick some other sorry sucker to drag back to their torture chamber. Why are you telling' me this, you want an APB on your fucking book characters?" 

I shake my head, 'no', the brunette behind the bar walks a bit closer. I give him a smile, and now I'm looking at officer Jameson again. 

"It's April, John." I tell him. 

Ashton makes his way out from the bar, he doesn't bother to be quiet or careful. He comes to me, patiently waiting for me to finish my newfound little game. 

"And?" He asks me. 

"The random killing? It happens in April,"


End file.
